


Song Without Words

by PhilTrashNo164



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, well piano teacher and pupil to friends to lovers but let's not be picky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-24 17:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14360382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhilTrashNo164/pseuds/PhilTrashNo164
Summary: Regency AU. Daniel Smith, a failed novelist, moves from Leeds to London to try and make it as a pianist. What he didn’t expect was to fall in love with his piano teacher. There are two distinct problems with this: his piano teacher is engaged, and, well… his piano teacher is… a man.





	1. Chapter 1

“Do I need to a hire an accountant to look into your affairs, Daniel?”

 

Dan forced his gaze away from the floor and onto his father’s face. As usual, his father looked far from happy. “Disappointed” was an expression he often wore when in his only child was in his vicinity. But now Dan had a chance to finally make him proud, if he could just convince him that what he had was a good idea. Dan put down his cup of tea, tapped the table twice for good luck, and cleared his throat - a theatrical rather than necessary action.

 

“Getting published was more costly than I anticipated, and-”

 

“And you want more money?”

 

Did his father ever let him finish a sentence? Dan held back a sigh as the older man continued:

 

“ _More_ money? To write another book that no one will ever read?”

 

This time Dan held back a wince. “No, Father. I want some money to move to London, and I promise I will pay you back. You have my word.”

 

“Go to London… and do _what_ exactly?”

 

This was it. Dan took a deep breath.

 

“I’d like to become a pianist.”

 

His father stared at him for what felt like far too long - not exactly the reaction Dan had hoped for. Then he said, “You know, you’re very privileged to not have to work to earn a living. You owe your mother’s family for that. But just because we’re not short of money doesn’t mean you can go spending it all with your harebrained schemes! So, now you want to become the next Beethoven? Daniel… why can’t you just be happy writing for the local newspaper like you used to do? Why does it always have to be some dramatic enterprise?”

 

“Well, we do only get one shot at life, Father, and-”

 

“I’ll lend you the money.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’ll lend it to you, on one condition: you have one year to prove to me that this venture will be successful. I’ll pay for your living arrangements, your cook, even your blasted piano lessons. This is your last chance, Daniel. Do you understand?”

 

Dan swallowed. “Yes, thank you, Father. I promise I won’t-”

 

“And we never know, do we?” A hint of a smile ghosted his father’s lips.

 

“...Know what?”

 

“Well, in London you might just finally find yourself a wife. A nice girl would set you straight.”

 

Dan found he had no answer to that.

 

*

 

The journey took three days, but Dan didn’t mind. He had his nose in a book the entire way, oblivious to the sounds of the horses’ hooves on the ground, or the views that he was passing.

 

This was it. A fresh start. Exactly what he needed.

 

Still, he was nervous. Leeds was a big, busy city, but London? As they entered the outskirts he was floored by how many, well, _people_ they were. And he was someone who didn’t do brilliantly around people. Perhaps this had been the wrong the decision.

 

But it was too late to turn back now.

 

The coach driver dropped him off at a rather elegant building, far too large for just Dan on his own. Clearly his father hoped it would soon be filled with the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

 

“Not if I can help it,” Dan muttered under his breath. He didn’t understand all the fuss about marriage.

 

He paid the coach driver, and was soon left alone, suitcases and boxes at his feet.

 

This was his new life.

 

He took a deep breath and walked inside.

 

*

 

“Would you like a tour of the rooms, Sir?”

 

Miss Jones was very… energetic. At his father’s house the cook was never seen and never ever heard, but this here was Dan’s house now, so he could be friend with his cook if he wanted. He could definitely use a friend.

 

“I’m fine, thank you, Miss Jones. Though - you could show me where the piano is kept?”

 

“Oh, call me Anna-” Miss Jones blushed scarlet, put her hands to her face- “Oh, if that’s alright with you, I’m so sorry Sir, for being so informal, I understand if you want to dismiss me, really-”

 

“Miss Jones.”

 

“Y-yes?”

 

Dan put on his best smile, extended a hand. She stared at it, then back at him. “I’ll call you Anna if you so wish.”

 

She smiled back, shook his hand. “Thank you, Sir. Oh, the piano! Right this way…”

 

It was an impressive piano. Far better than anything he could have afforded, even if he hadn’t spent most of his money publishing his novel.

 

(But he didn’t like to think about the novel).

 

“Does Mrs Smith play, Sir?” Anna asked.

 

“There’s just me, Anna. The piano is for me.”

 

Anna’s eyes widened. “Are you going to be like Beethoven?”

 

Dan laughed. “I can only dream to be that good… but I suppose that’s why I’m here, yes. To turn it into a career.”

 

“Oh, play us a song!”

 

Dan put up his hands. “Oh, no, I’ve had a long journey, and I-”

 

“Just one song!”

 

_Trust me to live with yet another person who doesn’t let me finish my sentences_ , Dan thought to himself, but he was smiling as he did so.

 

“I’ll play you some Robin Adair,” Dan said, sitting down on the piano stool and warming up his fingers with a few scales.

 

Anna stared at him with rapt attention as he began to play. At first it was a little off-putting, but then he reasoned to himself that if he wanted to do this for a living he better get used to people staring at him, and then it didn’t seem so bad. When he finished she clasped her hands together and jumped up and down, before breaking into applause.

 

“Oh, that was wonderful!”

 

Dan wrinkled his nose. “I’m quite rusty. Gave it all up for a while, you see, when I was… anyway. How about some dinner?”

 

“I’ll make you the best soup you’ve ever tasted!” Anna turned to leave the room, before turning back around. “And shall you want breakfast in the morning, or will you be up and out?”

 

“My only plans for tomorrow involve trying to find an adept piano teacher,” Dan said. “I’ll be in no hurry.”

 

(“Every penny is precious, and time is money.” Dan’s father’s words echoed in his mind. “Think of all the money you’ve wasted sitting around writing that blessed book of yours!”

 

Dan pushed the thoughts away.)

 

He hoped he could find a proficient piano teacher. Maybe him and her could even fall in love.

 

He’d never been in love. Was it too late to start now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT PIANO PLAYING AND VERY LITTLE ABOUT REGENCY ENGLAND WHAT AM I DOING


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> historical accuracy is once again questionable here, though I did try… but were you really reading this for the historical accuracy? I know you’re just here for that slow burn romance. Don’t lie to yourself.
> 
> Shoutout to my friend Allyssa for betaing, she writes great Dan and Phil fic over at realityfallsapart if you want to check her out!

_Dear Mr. Smith,_

 

_Thank you for your enquiry into my services._

 

 _I am not trying to be impolite, but I must ask you this: did you_ **_read_ ** _the advertisement?_

 

_If I am understanding you correctly, Sir, you are not, in fact, a young girl in need of a governess. Rather, you are a man wanting to learn the piano. As I say, that is not what I advertised…_

 

_However, I do play the piano. You were correct in that assumption - but it’s not exactly hard to be correct in that, for what respectful woman doesn’t play?_

 

_Nevertheless, I accept your proposition… if you increase my pay by an extra two shillings a day, and if I can be so crass as to discuss payment before we have even met. But, you understand, I would be taking a significant pay decrease in tutoring you, so I have adjusted accordingly._

 

_I hope to hear from you soon,_

 

_Yours, Cassandra Jackson._

 

*

 

Maybe Dan had been a little brash, a little bold, in answering Miss Jackson’s advertisement with a request so far removed from the actual job description, but he’d gotten desperate. Even in London, _London_ , huge wonderful London where people went to make their dreams come true, there appeared to be a dire lack of piano teachers for adults, or, more specifically, men. The ones aimed at women were all caught up in a package deal of piano lessons with added lessons in elocution and landscape drawing and needlework… no, thanks. His thinking was that a governess would be more forgiving than an “actual” teacher when he inevitably messed up for the hundredth time. You needed infinite patience to work with children, after all.

 

He was aware that the piano was traditionally a women’s instrument, but that wasn’t going to put him off. All the famous piano players were men, so men _did_ play piano. Not that he was thinking he’d become famous straight off the bat, mind, but-

 

“Sir, your teacher is here!”

 

Anna’s voice ripped Dan from his thoughts. And with it came the panic.

 

Was he dressed appropriately? Was the shirt too bright? Would she take one look at his always-a-mess hair and run in the opposite direction? And why did he care? Miss Jackson was his piano teacher, not his blushing bride to be.

 

_“You’ve never been… women aren’t really your strong point, are they, Dan?"_

 

Ralph’s words echoed in his mind. His best friend had always had a knack for being right on the money with his observations.

 

Dan physically shook himself out the despair, put on a hopefully convincing smile, and called to Anna “Send her in to me!”, rising to greet Miss Jackson - Miss Jackson, his hopeful new friend, confidant, and maybe even lover-

 

Miss Jackson was _ancient_. Dan regarded her hunched over, wizened form at first in horror, and then in awe.

 

 _When she drew her last breath Bach was probably cutting edge, and now she’s resurrected herself just to help me, how nice_ , Dan thought, before he could stop himself.

 

“Mr. Smith,” Miss Jackson said, no trace of a smile on her face.

 

“Mrs Jackson-” Dan began-

 

“ _Miss_ ’,” she corrected, eyes flashing.  

 

Dan swallowed. To say this wasn’t going how he’d expected would be an understatement. He bowed, held out a hand. She walked past without taking it, observed her surroundings, and then turned back to him.

 

“The piano?”

 

“Right this way,” Dan said, and they walked the (thankfully short) distance from one room to the next in complete, crushing silence.

 

“So, have you played before?” Miss Jackson asked. She eyed Dan’s piano warily, the stool with disapproval, his face with displeasure, and then sat down.

 

Dan took his time grabbing another stool, glad for something to do. “I know a fair few songs, or, I _did,_ but it’s been a year since I last played, you see, but I’ve written a couple myself, and it would be nice to-”

 

“We will start from the beginning.”

 

He sat down, tapped his hand against the piano lid, and forced a smile onto his face. “Fantastic.”

 

*

 

They played for a couple of hours, and it appeared to Dan that everything he did, Miss Jackson deemed wrong. His posture was terrible, he pressed too hard on the keys, he struggled to read the sheet music even with his glasses, however-

 

“However, you do have a delightful singing voice,” she said, and Dan thought for a second that he saw the ghost of a smile, but it couldn't be, not knowing her (for he was already getting a feeling of what she was like). She went on, “That voice is wasted on you. If you ever sing in company, I suspect the women will get jealous of it.”

 

He felt his cheeks heat. “Oh, you’re too kind-”

 

But the moment was gone. Miss Jackson stood up, a process that took a good twenty seconds.

 

“Mr. Smith,” she said. “I will see you next week?”

 

“Yes! Yes, thank you, it’s been a pleasure-”

 

Maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but in his mind, politeness never killed anybody.

 

“There’s a ball at Underwood Hall tomorrow night,” she said suddenly.

 

He felt his stomach drop. “Oh, I’d love to accompany you, but-”

 

“My great-niece,” she said, in a voice that implied an eye-roll. “She’s worried no one will dance with her. If you could spare her a dance or two, that would be most appreciated.”

 

What was the alternative to going to this ball? Another night staying up using candle after candle as he lay awake staring at blank paper, thinking about his novel, and if he could bear to ever write again?

 

“I’ll be there,” he said. Ralph had wanted him to socialise, and here was the perfect opportunity.

 

He couldn’t dance to save his life, but hopefully Miss Jackson’s great niece would be forgiving of that.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Mr. Smith, is it?”

 

“Hello!” Dan said, waving with both hands, and then immediately hating himself. _Why can’t I just be normal?_

 

The maid blinked at him. “Sir, forgive me terribly if I sound rude, but the ball doesn’t start for another hour and a half-”

 

“Well,” Dan said, rocking back and forwards on his feet, “There’s nothing wrong with being a little early, is there?”

 

Silence.

 

“May I sit in the drawing room?”

 

“One minute, Sir.” The maid partially closed the door, and Dan could hear whispering. He stood there awkwardly, already regretting every life choice he’d ever made that had led up to this moment.

 

“Come right through,” the maid said, opening the door again. “Lady Edmondson will be with you shortly. Would you like some tea?”

 

“Please.” Dan sunk into a chair, looking in awe at the many books that lined the shelves.

 

A few minutes later Dan was handed a much appreciated cup of tea, and he took a sip - or, rather, an undignified gulp - before leaning back and closing his eyes.

 

_You’ve only got to survive two hours of dancing, and then you can say you feel unwell and leave. You may hate dancing, but this could be fun, you never know-_

 

“It will be awful,” Dan said out loud, interrupting his own thoughts. He opened his eyes with a sigh, drunk more tea. Lady Edmondson was likely still getting dressed. Well, how long did it take a woman to get ready, surely not longer than 20 minutes?

 

...Dan would later write to Ralph about “how very very wrong he was”.

 

*

 

What felt like hours later, he was beginning to realise that he really needed the powder room, really, right this instant (how many cups of tea must he have drunk? He shuddered to think) when an immaculately dressed woman walked into the drawing room, behind her trailing a young man, and exclaimed “You see, Mr. Kerris, you are not the first to arrive. Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Kerris. I am terribly sorry that I didn’t greet you sooner, Mr. Smith, but you arrived most early! Us ladies had only started doing our hair! But now Mr. Kerris has arrived, and you have company at last!”

 

“I-” Dan began, but the woman was still talking-

 

“Mr. Kerris is an accountant, and Mr. Smith - oh, what is it that you do?”

 

“I,” Dan said, scrambling to think of something, and also trying not to squirm from the pressure in his bladder, “I wrote for the local newspaper back in Leeds?” _Why did you have to make it sound like a question, you fool-_

 

“Out of the job, then?” Mr. Kerris asked. Dan had to bite his tongue. Accountants had never really been people he could identify with, and here was one with a smug face and a sneering manner-

 

“I’ll leave the pair of you to get to know each other!” the woman trilled. “More guests should be arriving at any moment!”

 

“Well, Mr. Smith-” Mr. Kerris began-

 

“I’m terribly sorry, but you must excuse me for a minute,” Dan said, brushing past the pair of them and stumbling down the corridor. _This place is huge,_  he thought to himself, trying not to get swallowed up in despair. _I’ll get lost and die in here-_

 

A servant walked past. Dan grabbed him by the shoulders. “Powder room?” he said desperately.

 

“Turn left, then right after the first door, then it’s three doors down, Sir. Or you could take a right, then another right, and continue until you see the painting of Lady Edmondson’s late dog-”

 

“That clears that up,” Dan muttered under his breath, but eventually he found the room. It was finding his way back that was the problem…

 

“I must be getting closer,” Dan said to himself minutes later, “I can hear ladies’ voices-”

 

“I can hear ladies’ voices,” he said again, stopping dead in the middle of some nondescript corridor. “Ladies I will have to talk to, and dance with, and _talk to_ …”

 

The horror had finally hit him. _I can’t do this..._

 

 _“Pull yourself together man,”_ he imagined Ralph saying. _“Shake yourself out of it.”_

 

He followed the voices, or, rather, some voices, as these voices led him to-

  
  
“Sir?”

 

The cook paused cutting up the beef, knife in the air. “Sir, this is the kitchen. I think you-”

 

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” Dan stammered, “I’ll just leave now-”

 

He fled, nearly knocking into a servant carrying a tray of wine-filled glasses. He stared at the wine as the servant righted the tray.

 

“I’ll take that,” Dan said, an idea springing into his mind.

 

The servant cocked her head at him. “Sir, it is for us to serve you, not for you to serve other-”

 

“I’ll take that,” Dan said, firmer this time. The servant seemed to accept that this was a battle she was going to lose, and relinquished control of the tray over to him, before walking away.

 

“Time for some liquid courage,” Dan muttered to himself, downing a glass of wine. “Ralph always gets better at dancing when he’s a little drunk. Why can’t it work for me?” He picked up another glass. And another. And another…

 

*

 

**Half an hour later**

 

“Mr. Smith, this is Miss White, I believe you know her great-aunt, Miss Jackson?”

 

“Miss White!” Dan practically yelled, “So lovely to see you! Your gloves look very soft! And so does your face!”

 

Lady Edmondson shared a look with Miss White, regarded Dan for a moment, and said “...Well, I shall allow you two to make conversation, then-”

 

“Do you like novels, Miss White?” Dan slurred. “I wrote a great one, a great one…”

 

“Let’s sit down, shall we,” Miss White suggested, shooting Lady Edmondson a pleading look, but she was already turning her back on them. “You look a little, um, well-”

 

“I’m very happy,” Dan declared, nearly tripping over his own feet as he followed Miss White to the chairs at the edge of the ballroom. “Very happy, and your gloves look very soft.”

 

“Thank you. Lady Edmondson says you arrived almost two hours early, what on Earth have you been doing all this time?”

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Dan said, dropping down onto his chair and winding himself in the process.

 

“Thinking about tonight?” Miss White asked, a small genuine smile on her face.

 

Dan snorted. “No. Thinking about how I shall die alone, unloved, unknown, penniless, the embarrassment of my family, the shame of my friends, oh, Miss White, it’s truly awful, say you’ll love me? Say you’ll-”

 

“I think the first dance is starting,” Miss White interrupted. “Are you well enough to dance, Sir?”

 

“I’ve never been better,” Dan said, trying to work out which of the two Miss Whites he could currently see was the right one.

 

To give Dan some credit, he did reasonably well for the first dance. Yes, he stepped on Miss White’s feet more often than the floor, and got their arms tangled up more than once, but at least he wasn’t drawing attention to himself-

 

“And now, taking over from Miss Lindmere on piano, we have Mr. Simmons,” someone announced.

 

The song that began to play was much slower than the first one. It required an intimate, swaying dance-

 

  
“ _Bor-ing_ ,” Dan muttered to himself. He turned to Miss White. “Are you ready to see my _steps?_ ”

 

“What do you-”

 

Dan began shaking his body to the music, arms out at his sides waving violently.

 

“Mr. Smith, please, I-”

 

Dan bent his knees, put his hands on the floor, tapped his feet in a crouching position, before jumping up and crying “I’m dancing! Isn’t this fun!”

 

Miss White had her head in her hands. A few of the couples had stopped their own dances to observe Dan, who was now bobbing his head enthusiastically.

 

“Somebody get that man out of here!” a woman whispered.

 

“The servants say a whole tray of wine has gone missing, do you think he drank it?” another asked.

 

“Eh, eheu, eheu, eh, eheu, eheu, eh, eheu, eheu-” Dan began to sing-

 

“Why is he making those dreadful noises?” a man said to his wife.

 

“I’m feeling rather-” Dan began, feeling awfully tired, before he dropped to the floor, unmoving.

 

*

 

**Two days later**

 

_Dear Mr. Smith,_

 

_As a result of your frankly abominable behaviour at Underwood Hall two days ago, I must regret to inform you that I will be ending my position as your piano teacher. My great-niece was left ashamed and abandoned once you were shamefully carried out of the room, and no other man would dance with her for the rest of the night. I sincerely hope you get your act together, young man. You should be most appalled by your own behaviour._

 

_Yours, Cassandra Jackson._

 

*

 

_Dear Ralph,_

 

_Things here in London are not going as I would have hoped…_

  



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